


Operation: Faking It

by writeonclara



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Eventual Romance, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pidge POV, Pidge is a good bro, Pining, Prank Wars, Shenanigans, save shiro from lance 2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 10:07:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11987616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeonclara/pseuds/writeonclara
Summary: “What the hell, guys?” Pidge squawked, wrestling away from Matt. “Why are youpretendingto be a couple?”Or: Matt and Lance pretend to be a couple because Shiro and Keith areclueless as hell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the kink meme prompt: "klance and shatt by way of sneaky lance and matt"

What the fuck.

“So...yeah,” Matt said, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. His other hand was _holding Lance’s_. “We’re a—thing now. I guess.”

Lance laughed and detangled his hand from Matt’s so that he could throw his arm around his shoulders. “What do you mean, you guess? Did you already forget last night, shnookums? Because I sure didn't.”

“Um, _ew_?” Pidge said. Seriously, what the _fuck_. She gaped at her _brother_ , the dude who was super gross for Takashi Shirogane, who had a whole notebook with ‘Matthew Shirogane’ signed in the margins, who was now beaming at Lance with a dopey look of the hopelessly devoted. He shot a quick smile at her, then turned his gaze back up to Lance.

“Oh—congratulations,” Allura said, sounding uncertain. Pidge didn't blame her. _Everyone_ saw the tight orbit Lance and Keith had been in for the past year, slowly, but inexorably, drawing closer together. Yeah, Lance flirted with everyone he crossed paths with, but his eyes were constantly drawn back to Keith.

But maybe Lance never saw all the times Keith looked back.

“ _What?_ ” Hunk thundered. Beside him, Keith looked like he'd been struck by lightning. “You and _Matt?_ But I thought you—and, and—”

“Hunk,” Lance cut in, sharply. Hunk’s mouth snapped shut. Lance’s expression softened at Hunk’s wounded look. He quirked a gentler version of his usual grin at Hunk, drawing Matt closer to his side.

Pidge didn't miss the way Keith’s eyes tracked the movement, like a cat following the path of a laser pointer.

“Matt and I are very happy together,” Lance said, firmly.

Keith flinched.

“Then we’re very happy for you,” Shiro said, earnestly. He was smiling—of course Good Guy Shiro was smiling, he wanted the best for everyone, even at his own expense—but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

“Wait, no?” Pidge said. She couldn’t believe what the others were saying. “This is so totally wrong. _Matt._ ”

“Aw, don’t worry, Pidgey,” Lance said, pulling away from Matt so that he could fling an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll take good care of Matt. Hey wait, does this mean I can call you _‘manita_?”

Pidge suckerpunched him in the kidney.

Honestly—and she would never say this out loud, not even under the threat of death—Lance _had_ been like an older brother to her. He was the first one to go along with her ridiculous schemes—didn’t even hesitate to roll up the bottom of his jeans to hop into a fountain with her. But this was Matt. With _Lance_. 

“Nuh uh. No way. Don’t you think Matt’s been through enough? And now you want to subject him to your particular brand of Lance?”

“Pidge,” Matt said, coming up from behind Lance and sliding an arm around his waist. It just looked _so wrong_. They didn’t fit together at all. Then Matt grinned and Pidge just knew that a) she wasn't going to like what he was about to say and b) he was definitely about to say something scarring. “Don’t try to take this away from me. He is _fantastic_ in bed.”

“MATT,” Pidge howled, clamping her hands over her ears in an attempt to keep her _brain from leaking out_.

“I gotta go,” Keith said, pushing away from the wall and all but fleeing from the room. 

“Although we’re very happy for you, perhaps you can keep those details private,” Allura said, pinching the bridge of her nose. To her right, Coran clutched her shoulder, crying happily into an embroidered handkerchief.

Lance was practically vibrating beside Pidge, but he had his head turned away so she couldn’t see his expression. She had a suspicion he was laughing.

“Come on, pumpkin,” Matt said, linking his arm through Lance’s. “Let's give them some time to let it sink in.”

“Oh, I can think of some things to _sink in_ ,” Lance said, waggling his eyebrows.

“NooOOO,” Pidge howled, and Lance was _definitely_ laughing, the son of a bitch. Matt dragged him to the exit to, thankfully, end her agony.

“Matt, hold on.”

Matt hesitated at the door, glancing over his shoulder at Shiro. When Lance turned to him, one eyebrow raised and a strange little smile dancing at the corner of his mouth, Matt ducked his head and elbowed Lance lightly on the side, grinning back a little. It was _so gross_.

“I’ll catch you later, Adonis,” Lance said, blowing a kiss. Pidge shoved him through the door, unable to stand it for one more second.

The others trailed after them, Hunk immediately zooming to Lance’s side and throwing an arm over his shoulder. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but Lance reached up to pat Hunk’s arm consolingly. Pidge followed them halfway down the hall, trailing behind Coran and Allura, then stopped and walked in place, letting her footsteps trail after them for a minute. When Allura’s white hair disappeared around the corner, she spun around and scurried back to the lounge. She stopped at the entrance, then slowly peered around the corner.

Shiro was standing in front of Matt, one hand braced on his shoulder. “I just wanted to say, I'm just glad you're happy. You, of all people, deserve it,” Shiro said, squeezing Matt’s shoulder. And the thing was, he sounded like he meant it. Pidge could see it in the soft way he was smiling down at Matt, like Matt’s happiness was all that mattered in the universe. 

What a self-sacrificing dumbass.

“Y-yeah, you said that already,” Matt stuttered. There was a faint tinge of red high on his cheekbones. He dropped his eyes to the left, like he couldn’t bare to look into Shiro’s face. 

Pidge narrowed her eyes. 

“Right,” Shiro said, a little embarrassed. Then his expression abruptly changed and Pidge reached up to adjust her glasses, shocked. She had _never_ seen Shiro look like that before. “You are happy, right?”

Matt snapped his eyes up. Shiro stared back down at him. If Pidge didn’t know any better—

“ _Very_ happy,” Matt said, almost challengingly.

For just a fraction of a second, Shiro’s expression collapsed. Then he was all smiles again, patting Matt’s shoulder. “Good. That’s—great.”

Holy crap. Shiro was _jealous_.


	2. Chapter 2

And then things got super gross.

It was like every time Pidge turned a corner, she tripped over Matt and Lance cuddling, or holding hands, or whispering things into each other's ears and _giggling_.

Exhibit A: Lance was stretched out on the couch, one arm tucked behind his head, the other hand waving animatedly as he described his heroics with the mermaids. Matt was sprawled out _on top of him_ , chin resting on his hand, watching Lance with fond amusement.

Maybe she could ask Coran if there was an Altean equivalent of brain bleach.

Right above her head, there was a sharp _crack_.

Pidge jumped clear out of her skin and whirled around mid air, both hands up in a defensive karate chop. Shiro was lurking behind her, holding the door frame above her head with his bionic hand.

She looked up. There was a crack stretching for nearly half a meter under his hand.

“Uh, Shiro?”

“They're good together,” Shiro said calmly, completely oblivious to the major destruction he was doing to the castle. It was probably in Pidge’s best interest that she didn’t draw his attention to it.

“They're _terrible_ together,” Pidge protested.

Shiro hummed and, notably, didn't disagree. Then his eyes widened. Pidge looked back into the room. She really, really wished she hadn't. Matt had leaned down to press his nose against Lance’s in an Eskimo kiss.

“Oh my god, this is the worst,” Pidge groaned, turning back to Shiro for commiseration. Only he was already halfway down the hall, hands shoved into his pockets and shoulders slumped. Pidge wasn’t exactly known for her softer emotions, but this was _Shiro_. Shiro—who had seared a perfect imprint of his hand into the door frame, apparently, Jesus Christ.

Something had to be done.

Back in the room, Matt had shifted back down so that his elbows were resting on Lance’s chest and his chin was back in his hands. Both Lance’s arms were folded behind his head now. He was grinning smugly.

Straight at Pidge.

When he caught her watching them, his eyes slid away from her, back to Matt.

What the _fuck_. Was she being trolled by _Lance McClain?_

* * *

Operation: Terminate Latte wasn't going as smoothly as she'd hoped it would go.

For one thing, all her ideas would most likely result in either Lance or Matt (or both) getting hurt in the end, and although she wasn't exactly known for her tact, she didn't want to permanently damage either of them.

If she truly believed for a moment that Lance was using her brother to get at Keith in some way, nothing would be able to keep her from enacting painful revenge on her fellow Paladin. But she was one hundred and ten percent positive that whatever game Matt and Lance were playing at was completely mutual.

And if she believed for a second that they really did care for each other—not just as buddies, but as boyfriends—she would would let them be. But she didn’t miss the way Lance snuck glances at Keith, as if he wanted him to see how happy he was, nor the way Matt _still_ gazed longingly at Shiro’s back.

The obvious solution, then, was to throw Keith at Lance and hope for the best. (She was way too scared of Shiro’s Disappointed Dad Face to try the same trick with him.)

The only problem was Keith had gone MIA.

So Pidge stole all of Lance’s clothes, instead.

* * *

Pidge should have probably considered all all the possible outcomes.

Of course she should have anticipated that Lance would stroll into breakfast the next morning in _Matt’s clothing_.

Pidge didn't even know if she liked guys, or girls, or anything besides her precious, precious technology, but even she could see that the effect was devastating. Matt’s pants (a pair of slim gray trousers, not the billowy clown pants he had incinerated right after he got to the castle) were slightly too short, but Lance rolled the bottoms up over his toned calves to compensate for the length. His black shirt stretched tight across Lance’s shoulders and hugged his chest, showing off just how seriously Lance took his training. Living in space had done the body good for Lance McClain.

There was a quiet _plip_ as Keith’s space goo slid from his spoon and back onto his plate. “What are you _wearing_?”

“Babe,” Matt said, gleefully.

“Babe,” Lance said, ignoring Keith.

“You look great in my clothes.”

Lance shot him a pair of finger guns and a sparkling grin. “You know it.”

Keith set his spoon back onto his plate, then slowly sank his head down into his hands. It was the first time he’d been caught in a room with Lance or Matt in it. Pidge now got why he kept his distance. His emotions were scrawled all over his entire body for everyone to see.

Right now, he was _pissed_.

Hunk shot him a concerned look, then nudged over a plate of sweet cakes. Keith didn't move for a moment, then reached down and popped one in his mouth. He even chewed angrily.

Instead of taking the seat beside Matt (or the conspicuously empty one next to Keith’s), Lance dropped into the chair next to Pidge. “I hope whoever took my clothing—by hacking into my door and resetting it to play Altean butt rock every time I punch in my code, wonder who could have done that—at least made sure my Paladin armor was easy to grab.”

“I have no idea who you're talking about,” Pidge said innocently, spooning a mouthful of goo into her mouth. “But something tells me it’s in Red’s hangar.”

“That’s what I thought,” Lance said. He grinned at her, that same smug grin from the other day that had all her hackles prickle up.

It was time for Plan B.

* * *

“Keith? Keith! Open up!”

The door swished open immediately, probably because Pidge was pounding on it frantically with both fists. Keith's hair was sticking up all over the place and his clothes were sleep rumpled, as if he’d just collapsed into bed without bothering to change. But his eyes were wide and alert, and he was already clutching his bayard in one hand.

“Pidge? What's wrong?” he demanded, every inch the prepared warrior.

“It's Lance!” Pidge said, desperately. “He's in trouble!”

Keith's eyes widened in horror and he started towards her. “What? Where is he?”

“He's in his room. You've got to hurry!”

Keith nearly bowled her over in his haste to get out the door, sword materializing in his hand. Pidge trotted after him, then shoved both her hands in her pockets and followed at a more sedate pace. At the corner before Lance’s room, she stopped and leaned against the wall.

“Lance! Lance, are you alright?” Keith shouted, banging on the door with one fist.

Lance didn't answer.

“I'm cutting down the door!” Keith shouted, rearing his sword back. Crap. If Keith actually cut through Lance’s door, Lance would murder her. _Coran_ would murder her.

There was a muffled curse from behind the door, then something falling to the ground with a thump. “Wait wait wait,” Lance said, a little hysterically. “You can’t just chop up my door like some sort of barbarian.”

Keith lowered his sword. “Then let me in.”

There was a brief moment of embarrassed silence. “I can’t.”

“Then I’m coming in,” Keith said, lifting his sword again.

“Hold your horses,” Lance snapped. “At least use the code like a civilized person. It’s 0728.”

“Your code’s your birthday?”

“...you know my birthday?”

Even from a distance, Pidge could see how red Keith’s ears got at that. He didn’t answer, just punched the code into the panel by Lance’s door.

The door swished open with an obnoxious blast of Altean glam rock.

Lance was sprawled on the floor, clad only in a pair of black boxers and a bright red face. His arm twisted at an awkward angle and connected to the bedpost with one of the handcuffs Coran used during their ‘team bonding’ exercise. He beamed weakly up at Keith. “Hey buddy, a little help here?”

Keith shut the door again.

Ignoring the inevitable explosion from Lance’s room, Keith stalked past Pidge, eyes wide and face brick red. He didn’t even look at her as he disappeared around the corner.

Dammit. It had been tricky handcuffing Lance to his bed without waking him up. She’d been worried that he’d be in Matt’s room, but he’d been sprawled out in his own bed, one hand thrown over his head, the other resting on his bare belly. _Thank god_ he slept in his boxers.

They were all light sleepers, but it had been quiet for weeks, and Lance had been sleeping with Pidge’s headphones on. He’d woken up at the click of the handcuff and had flailed out of bed, but Pidge had managed to escape with nothing more than a pillow hurled at the back of her head and a few choice curses. Part one of her plan had been a success.

Part two, not so much. Not that she had any clue about what would happen _after_ she threw Keith at Lance.

She just didn't think he would run away.

“Dammit! When I get my hands on that little gremlin I'm going to throw her out an airlock,” Lance snarled from his room.

“I'd like to see you try!” Pidge shouted back.

THere was a beat of silence. “Pidge? Is that you? You better free me right now.”

Pidge flipped off the door and strolled away. Someone else would help him. Eventually.

“Pidge? _Pidge!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Guys_. Thank you all so much for you kudos, comments, and bookmarks. You are all _awesome_.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey,” Matt said, strolling into Green’s hangar, his hands in his pockets.

Pidge looked up from the blue hologram that was scrolling through a diagnostic test. She lifted both her eyebrows. “Oh, have you finally stopped sucking face with your boyfriend for long enough to hang out with your dear little sister?”

Matt nudged her shoulder with his knee, then dropped down beside her, crossing his legs. “Don't be like that. I'll always have time for you. What are you working on?”

Pidge wanted to continue bickering with him, but let it drop. He _did_ go out of his way to sit by her during lunch, or just hang out in Green’s hangar while she did routine maintenance. She could learn to share him. 

One day.

Not with Lance, though. Or at least, not unless Matt actually did love Lance romantically, which had a ten percent likelihood by her calculations.

“Just running some diagnostic tests,” Pidge said, waving her hand so that the screen slid up in front of him. He scanned the code, leaning forward and bracing his hands on his knees.

It was the quiet moments like these that she’d missed the most when Matt was gone. She smiled down at her tablet, starting another test on Green’s defense systems. Because Green was responsible for the shield and was therefore often under a huge amount of stress, Pidge was constantly searching for new ways to reinforce her armament.

Matt whistled through his teeth, scrolling through the code. “This bit—what does this do?”

Pidge leaned over, scanning the section he was pointing to. “Oh, that's for Green’s cloaking device.”

Matt turned to her, eyebrows raised. “You fitted her with a cloaking device?” 

“Oh yeah,” Pidge grinned, leaning back on her hands. “The refractive properties of the optical metamaterials uses the light from nearby objects to render Green invisible to all long range and short range scanners.”

“So it produces spatial variations?” Matt said, sounding excited. When Pidge didn't respond right away, he frowned and tore his eyes away from the test.

Pidge beamed at him.

He stared back, his own lips twitching up into a matching grin. “What are you so happy about, Pigeon?”

Her grin widened and she shoved herself against his side. She hadn't allowed anyone to call her that in years—not since she'd last seen Matt. But she adopted the name Pidge because that had been what Matt had called her when they were kids, and she’d taken the name to keep him alive in her own way.

Green picked up on her happiness and rumbled warmly, tail twitching. Pidge felt like her heart was going to burst. This was everything she needed.

“I'm just glad you're here, Matt.”

Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a tight squeeze. “Me too.”

“I just seriously question your taste in men.”

Matt rolled his eyes and leaned away, as if less proximity could get him out of this conversation. “Not this again.”

“Why _him_ of all people?” Pidge folded her arms, glaring.

He glared right back. “Are you going to sit here and tell me to my face that you don't adore Lance McClain? Because you'd be a big fat liar.”

“I do,” Pidge said, without hesitation. “He's one of my best friends and I consider him family. But he's not—”

Matt’s eyebrows drew down into an irritated parenthesis over his eyes. “He’s not _what_ , Pidge?”

“Shiro,” Pidge said mutinously.

“Yes?” Shiro said.

They both performed perfectly synchronized sitting high jumps, accompanied by undignified yells of surprise. Pidge turned to look at Matt in horror, only to find him already gaping at her. As one, they looked over their shoulders at Shiro.

“Sorry,” Shiro said, looking between their faces with mounting concern. “I just—” He rubbed the back of his head, looking to the side. “—needed to talk to Pidge.” His eyes snapped up again and Pidge could swear there was a light dusting of pink across his cheeks. “About Paladin stuff!”

Pidge gaped at Shiro, totally and completely thrown for a loop. It was easy to forget that their fearless leader wasn't that much older than the rest of them. Pidge just hadn't realized Shiro was genetically capable of flustered babbling.

She turned back to Matt, expecting him to either be blushing too, or at least smiling fondly. Instead, he was watching Shiro with his arms crossed over his chest.

“How much of that did you hear?”

Now Pidge gaped at Matt. Who was this guy and what did he do with the boy who blushed and stuttered sweetly around his longtime hero and hopeless crush? The boy who would stay up late the night before a test playing Mario Kart with his BFF Shiro, just because he knew Shiro was driving himself insane from all the pressure he put on himself to be perfect?

It was sometimes easy to forget what Matt had gone through, especially when they were sitting quietly together, discussing spatial variations. But this seemed different, like Matt was _mad_ at Shiro.

“Nothing, I swear!” Shiro said quickly. Shiro was no liar, but he _was_ also acting totally weird. What was going _on_?

Matt braced his hands against his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “I'll leave you guys too it, then.” He patted the top of Pidge’s head, then ruffled her hair when she squawked at him. He barely even smiled at Shiro when he passed by.

“What the hell,” Pidge said. Then she leaped to her feet and stalked up to Shiro. “Hey you, what did you do to my brother?”

“I have no idea!” Shiro said, lifting both his hands defensively in the face of her sisterly wrath. “Honestly!”

“What's going on here?” Lance said, peeking into the hangar. Jesus, was Green’s hangar the new cool place to be?

“What are you doing here?” Pidge demanded, directing all her outrage at her new target.

“Woah woah, don't bite _my_ face off. I was just dropping off that data file you wanted from that last reconnaissance.” He flipped the small chip between two fingers, still looking between Shiro and Pidge suspiciously. “Why are you bullying Shiro?”

“I want to know why Matt’s pissed at him!” Pidge snapped, snatching the chip out of Lance’s hand.

“Oh,” Lance said, casually. “That.”

There was complete silence in Green’s hangar. Even Green seemed surprised, a questioning rumble humming through the back of Pidge’s mind. What could Lance possibly know about _her_ brother that _she_ didn't?

“What,” Pidge said.

Lance seemed to realize he’d said too much. His expression closed off into that fox-like smile he got whenever he was hiding something. “Anyway, I'll see you guys later.”

“Lance—” Shiro said, stepping towards him.

“Bye!” Lance tossed off a sloppy salute, then scrambled away, like he was worried Shiro was about to start chasing him. To be fair, it certainly looked like Lance had tripped Shiro’s predatory instincts. He looked ready to hunt Lance all over the ship until he got some answers.

“I gotta go,” Shiro growled, stalking after Lance.

“Wait, didn't you need to talk to me?” 

“I'll find you later.”

“But the zipline won't be back for several dobashes!” Pidge called.

“I'll walk then!” Shiro shouted back.

Pidge stood in the middle of the hangar, completely flabbergasted. She looked back at her diagnostic tests, but they were moving too fast for her distracted mind to comprehend.

“I've got to redo my hypotheses,” Pidge muttered, dropping back down on Green’s front paw.

Green purred comfortingly in the back of her mind, but she was also so amused, like this was the most entertainment she'd had in _deca-phoebs_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some sweet sibling time for you guys <3
> 
> (also in this universe sam holt is safe back on earth with his wife. either that or leading the rebellion in matt's place)
> 
> next chapter will be all keith, all the time


	4. Chapter 4

**If Shiro pissed off Matt, then Matt would date Lance out of petty revenge.**

Pidge tapped her fingers against her chin, frowning down at her tablet. That didn’t make much sense. Matt wasn’t above petty revenge, but it wasn’t like him to _use_ someone. Not that Lance was being used—or at least, he was definitely in on the plot.

She pushed up her glasses, rubbing one eye with the heel of her hand. There just wasn’t enough data. Why was Matt pissed at Shiro? He refused to say, even going so far as walking out of the room mid-conversation when Pidge kept pushing it. And why was Lance helping him?

“I can't take it anymore!” Keith shouted, slamming his fist on the table. Pidge jumped, startled out of her conjectures. She hadn’t even noticed that everyone else had left, nor that Keith had snuck in to eat breakfast.

It wasn't unusual for Keith to fly off the handle, but it was usually in the middle of a battle, not while he was sullenly poking at a plate of green goo. No one was a fan of Altean cuisine (not even the Alteans), but they all dealt with it without complaining. Much. Once in awhile Lance or Hunk broke down and weeped about _bread_ of all things. “Not a lot of options in space, dude.”

“That's crap,” Keith said, pointing accusingly at her. “There are plenty of other people or aliens or—or robots, your brother could be into that, I don’t know—that _aren’t_ Lance.” His finger wavered and he blanched slightly. “Or—or vice versa. I mean.”

He trailed off weakly when Pidge just stared at him over the top of her tablet, both eyebrows raised. Then he looked down at his pile of goo. “You weren’t talking about Matt and Lance, were you?”

“I was not talking about Matt and Lance,” Pidge confirmed, smirking.

Keith scowled at her, going pink. “Oh, shut up.”

Pidge waved a dismissive hand, leaning one arm on the table. “Anyway, why do you care about who Matt or Lance dates?”

“I don't,” Keith said, scowling down at his goo.

“Did you see the way Matt defeated that Galra to save Lance yesterday?” Pidge asked casually. “That was pretty cool.”

Keith snapped his spoon in half.

That mission had been a shitshow from start to finish. It was supposed to be a routine reconnaissance at an abandoned Galra base. It should have just been a matter of Shiro running through the empty halls, using his handy dandy Galra hand to open doors and access data, with Lance providing cover.

Only, the base was not nearly as abandoned as they were led to believe. To make matters worse, the lions had to engage in some heavy duty fire fighting before they could launch a rescue mission. By the time Yellow bashed through the wall, Lance and Shiro had been trapped for two vargas, and Lance was two ticks away from being shot in the head. Probably because he wouldn’t shut up. He’d been mouthing off at the Galra even with the barrel of the gun pressed against his temple.

Keith had shot forward with a battlecry, bayard materializing in his hand. But then Matt slid on his knees under Keith’s sword and stabbed his staff into the ground, using the momentum to pop up into the air and double kick the Galra about to execute Lance in the head. Then, with the grace of a dancer, he swung his staff up, electricity crackling through the air, and clobbered the Galra under his chin.

It had been over in a matter of ticks. There’d been a sharp silence after the fight, and then Lance had burst into a wild round of applause.

Keith, apparently, still hadn’t fully recovered.

“Uh huh,” Pidge said cautiously, setting her tablet to the side. “ _That’s_ not intimidating at all.”

Keith stared down at the remains of his utensil, as if betrayed that it would give him away so blatantly.

“How do you feel about Lance, anyway?” she asked, propping her head up with one hand. Lance was painfully, painfully transparent about his absolute devotion to the new black Paladin. It had gotten to the point that whenever Keith was bothered about something, all eyes turned to his right hand man to pull him back on track. But Pidge could see how Lance might be under the misconception that Keith wasn’t interested. She herself was only fifty six point eight percent sure that Keith reciprocated Lance’s feelings, although interpersonal relationships weren't exactly her forte. For all she knew, it was just as probable that Keith's interest was strictly platonic.

At least, until Lance started dating Matt. She could now comfortably increase the probability to a seventy-four percent likelihood of reciprocation.

“Feel?” Keith spluttered. “I hate him! He's loud, he has a stupid sense of humor—he doesn't take anything seriously! All he’s interested in doing is flirting with anything that moves. In fact, I feel bad for Matt! It must be hard having a boyfriend like—like—” He trailed off at Pidge’s pitying look and dropped his head in his hands.

Make that one hundred percent. She wondered if she’d really been that unobservant, or if Keith was just that good at hiding his emotions. “That bad, huh?”

“It is _so_ bad,” he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face, then sliding them up into his hair.

“For how long?” Pidge asked, snatching up her tablet to tap out a new hypothesis.

**If Lance started dating someone else, then Keith would be forced to pull his head out of his ass and acknowledge his own feelings.**

“I don’t know, awhile, I guess. I didn’t realize until recent—” He paused, then groaned again, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Holy quiznack, you must think I'm a monster. He's with your brother.”

“No he isn't.”

Keith’s eyes snapped back up to Pidge, sparking with something like hope. Then he pursed his lips together and shook his head. “I have eyes, Pidge. Those two can't pass each other in a hallway without making out.”

Pidge lifted an eyebrow. “Have you ever seen them kiss?”

Keith opened his mouth, then slowly closed it again, eyes widening.

“My brother has been doofy over Shiro since he first laid eyes on him in the Garrison, and Lance—” She cut herself off, eyes flying to Keith’s face.

“Lance what?” Keith asked, quietly.

“—is not my brother’s type,” she finished, then winced and sent a silent apology to her brother. Oh sure, she could blab Matt’s secret without a second thought—she was a little sister, after all—but she couldn't bring herself to expose Lance like that. At least, not to _Keith_.

Besides, she still had to gather data.

“So you think, what, they're _pretending_?”

“It's a working hypothesis,” Pidge said, a little defensively. “But—yes.”

Keith’s face lit up. He beamed at Pidge, eyes bright with hope and happiness. Oh shit, Keith had it _so_ bad. Then, like a thundercloud drifting over the sun, his expression darkened. “You mean—that _asshole_ —put me through—” He sucked in a breath and scowled at Pidge, as if she were the one who put Lance up to it.

“Woah, hey.” Pidge lifted both her hands in self defense. “I'm against this just as much as you are, dude. Who do you think stole all of Lance’s clothes? And handcuffed him to his bed?”

“That was you?” Keith said, blown away.

Pidge slid her hand over her face. She knew Keith was the golden child of Voltron, but he had a terminal case of tunnel vision. That was probably why Lance and Matt concocted their dumbass plan in the first place.

“So you've been trying to break them up?” Keith asked, sounding like he wasn't entirely sure he approved.

“Operation: Terminate Latte.”

“That makes it sound like you’re going to kill them,” said Keith, skeptically. “Also: Latte? What?”

“It's a name-mash. Lance plus Matt—Latte? You know, like Bragelina?”

“Who?”

Pidge didn't know why she bothered. _Lance_ would know what's up. Then again, Lance was the reason why they were in this mess to begin with. “Never mind. It’s Operation: Terminate Latte unless you can think of anything better.”

“Well, if you want a dumb coffee pun, why not call it Operation: Coffee Break?”

Pidge opened her mouth. She closed it again and pointed accusingly at him. “Genius.”

Then she grinned wickedly, resting both her arms on the table and leaning forward, and said, “So, are you in? You want to help me break up Matt and Lance’s fake relationship?”

Keith used half of his spoon to push the goo around on his plate, his eyebrows furrowed. "You're _sure_ they're not together?"

"One hundred percent," she said. "Well, ninety-five. Ninety."

“This is so wrong,” he said. Then, like a guilty man accepting his death sentence, added, “I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick update bc i'm gonna be pretty slammed for the next week. Next up: operation: coffee break is a go


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I LIED, this fic is eating my _brain_ so here, have another chapter.

“Okay. You understand what you need to do, right?” Pidge said, clapping her hands together. 

Keith jerked a little at the sound, glancing around like a guilty school kid. For someone who constantly went against orders to throw himself (and everyone else) head first into dangerous situations, he sure was jumpy. 

They were down the hall from the training room, Pidge fully suited up in her Paladin armor and Keith sans red jacket, going over plan for like, the millionth time. Not that it was difficult to understand, but Keith was being annoyingly recalcitrant.

“I don't know about this, Pidge,” Keith said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Pidge punched her fists onto her hips, glaring up at him. “Don't chicken out on me now, dude. You agreed to this.”

“It's just—even if they aren't dating, that doesn't mean Lance _likes_ me. He can barely tolerate me.” Keith’s shoulders slumped in defeat and he looked down at his feet.

Pidge slid one hand down her face. Somehow, this was all Lance’s fault. He was the only one who could reduce Keith to emo tears. “Listen, you can hide in your room and blast Fall Out Boy later. I'll even lend you my headphones. _After_ phase one of Operation: Coffee Break.”

At least that got Keith glaring at her. It was better than all the moping. “How are you so sure he's going to be training right now anyway?”

“Shiro’s on that mission with Matt and the Blade of Marmora,” Pidge explained, grabbing Keith’s arm to physically haul him down the hall. “Lance won't need to hide from Shiro today.” She paused, then shrugged. “Also I heard Lance mention to Hunk that he was planning on training.”

“What's that all about, anyway?” Keith asked, pulling his arm out of her grasp. “I mean, why does Shiro look one step away from murdering Lance whenever they're in a room together?”

“Apparently, Shiro did something to piss Matt off,” Pidge said, unable to keep the bitter note out of her voice. She still didn't understand why Matt refused to tell _her_ what happened. “Lance knows why, but won’t say anything.” She huffed. “It’s probably something dumb.”

“Huh.” Keith’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “I can’t imagine Shiro doing something that would piss anyone off.”

“ _Right?_ ” Pidge said, shaking her head. She smacked her hand against the panel to the training room and pushed Keith in.

“Wait—where are you going to be?” Keith asked, frowning around the room at the barren white walls. “You're not just going to stand around and take notes, are you?”

“I'll be up there,” Pidge said, pointing at the air vent by the ceiling. “You ready for this?”

“I'm going to hell,” muttered Keith.

“Nah, you protect the universe. That’s gotta count for something.”

Keith snorted and Pidge engaged her thrusters, jetting up to the vent. She settled into her little nook, pulling up her data file titled Operation: Coffee Break - Phase 1. 

Keith shifted from foot to foot, staring at the door as if contemplating making a break for it. Before he could flee, however, the door swished open and Lance strolled in. 

Perfect. This was the first time Pidge could observe Keith and Lance alone.

“Hey man,” Lance said, nodding at Keith. He’d forgone his full Paladin armor, dressed only in the black kit they wore under the armor and his boots. “You training?”

“Y-yeah,” Keith stammered, _totally obvious_. Lance shot him a strange look and Keith turned away, rubbing the back of his head. “Want to spar?”

At least he was sticking to the script, even if he was starting to sound belligerent. Oh, Keith.

“Sure. I've been meaning to work on my hand to hand, anyway.”

Pidge frowned, tapping into a cell.

**Observation Point #1 - Lance is treating Keith the same as always.**

She didn't know what that meant. He definitely didn't seem lovestruck. Had she been reading Lance wrong this whole time? 

No, she definitely hadn't imagined the way Lance had watched Keith, like he was constantly waiting for the other boy to notice him. But all her data indicated that during their first meeting, Lance should have at least been embarrassed. Or flustered. After all, the last time they’d been alone, Lance had been half-naked and handcuffed to his bed. Instead he shot Keith his usual careless grin, one hand resting on his hip.

Keith's shoulders relaxed by increments. One corner of his mouth ticked up into a lopsided smile. “You definitely need it.”

“Hey!” Lance said, glaring playfully. “We all can't be super cool swordsmen. Since it’s, you know, not in the sixteenth century. Guns are _way_ more practical.”

Keith blinked. “You think I'm super cool?”

Pidge could practically hear the silent _FUCK_ Lance had just shouted in his head. She narrowed her eyes, leaning over the edge of the vent.

**Observation Point #2 - Lance is better at hiding things than previously suspected.**

“Don't get a big head about it. I've seen the way you shoot,” Lance huffed, bluffing his way through his mistake. 

Keith shrugged, his bayard materializing into a practice sword. “It’s a good thing we’re not doing target practice right now, then.”

Lance barely had enough time to materialize his own practice blade before Keith charging forward, swinging his sword with the grace of a deranged dancer. Pidge sighed heavily.

**Observation Point #3 - Keith is even worse at interpersonal relationships than I am—especially ones that are romantic by nature.**

Phase one specifically instructed Keith to let Lance win, but it looked like the dumbass was getting caught up in the heat of the battle, especially now that Lance was no longer just defending, but was starting to hit back.

“Stay—still!” Lance demanded, lunging forward with a wild jab.

“You're wide open!” Keith shouted, pivoting behind him. There was a sharp _whap!_ as the flat of Keith’s bayard made contact with the back of Lance’s thighs.

Lance sprang forward and somehow managed to twist around in mid air. With one hand, he grabbed his wounded legs. With his other, he pointed accusingly at Keith. “Did you—did you just—”

Keith grinned broadly, his purple eyes sparkling with mischief. “You gotta be faster than that, McClain.”

Lance lurched forward, but Keith danced out of the way, laughing brightly. The training session quickly devolved after that, with Lance chasing Keith around the training room, and Keith taking cheap shots at Lance’s legs and arms.

“Left side!” Keith whapped Lance’s hip.

“Oh, you are _done_ , buddy boy,” Lance growled, one corner of his mouth quirking up into a predatory grin. He prowled forward and Keith danced back.

“Like you could catch me!” Keith mocked.

Pidge wasn't quite sure how it happened, but Lance somehow managed to twist just as Keith took a swipe at him, and the flat of Keith’s sword smacked Lance squarely on the ass.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Keith doubled over with laughter, clutching his stomach. “S-sorry, man,” he gasped. “That was an accident, I swear.”

“Not as sorry as you're going to be!” Lance growled, an unholy light in his eyes, and launched himself at Keith. Keith was laughing too hard to dodge the tackle and they both collapsed to the ground in a pile of limbs and hysterical laughter.

“You think that's funny, do you?” Lance cackled, smushing Keith’s cheeks together. Keith helplessly batted his hand away, turning his cheek into the mat and gasping with laughter, his cheeks flushed, hair mussed. The bottom of his shirt had rucked up to his stomach.

“I'm s-sorry,” he gasped, pressing the flat of his hand against Lance’s chest in a feeble attempt to push him away.

Lance froze suddenly, one hand still cupping the side of Keith’s face, his fingers tangled in his hair. Pidge couldn't see his expression, but he had gone perfectly still, like his world had stopped spinning. Then he jerked back and stumbled to his feet. His ears were glowing a dusky pink.

“I—I gotta go,” Lance said, his bayard vanishing. Keith sat up, his laughter dying into a confused smile. Lance jerked back a step, as if Keith had shot him. “Thanks for training with me.”

Pidge’s lips slowly stretched into a wide grin.

**Observation #4 - Lance is _definitely_ in love with Keith.**

After Lance booked it out of the training room, Keith flopped back down on the mat, staring up at the ceiling, his arms outstretched. His cheeks were still stained pink and he was panting slightly. “That was a monumental failure, huh?”

“Au contraire,” Pidge said, scrambling out of the vent. She jetted back down the the ground and plopped down next to Keith. “I would consider phase one of Operation: Coffee Break a huge success.”

Keith slid a glance at her, then tilted his face back towards the ceiling. “We’re terrible people.”

“Maybe,” Pidge said. “But I’m pretty sure they are too.”

“What are you two doing?”

Pidge yelped and fumbled to lock her tablet, then scowled thunderously when Shiro strolled into the training room. He was still kitted out in his Paladin armor; probably he’d just returned from his mission.

“I'm going to put a _bell_ on you,” Pidge snapped, clutching her chest and willing her heart to chill out.

Keith pushed himself to a sitting position, dematerializing his bayard. “How did your mission with Matt go?” 

Shiro winced, then sank down onto the mat next to them, crossing his legs. “Don't ask.”

Pidge folded her arms over her chest. She wasn't sure about how she felt about Matt’s argument with Shiro. On one hand, the protective side of her wanted to give Shiro the cold shoulder. On the other hand, she _knew_ her brother. Everyone always typecasted Pidge as the angry one who flew off the handle if looked at funny, but it wasn't true. Well, it _was_ true, but it ignored the fact that Matt, of the sunny smiles and sweet disposition, was just as bad as she was, if not worse. When Matt was fifteen and Pidge was eight, she had personally witnessed him eviscerate the thirteen-year-old that bullied her for a full year. Then he introduced her to the fine art of egging someone's house. For a full month.

The point was, Pidge had to have got her temper and protectiveness from _somewhere_.

“What happened?” Keith asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“I tried asking why he was mad at me,” Shiro admitted, raking his fingers through his hair. “He got even more mad that I didn't remember. I just don't get it. We were _good_ earlier, before we got back to the castle.”

Pidge winced sympathetically. “Don't take it too hard,” she offered.

Shiro’s expression clouded over. “And then Lance popped up out of nowhere and dragged him off right when he got back. He looked—a little panicked, actually.”

“That's our fault,” Keith said. “We’re trying to break them up. I think he got embarrassed.”

Pidge shoved her glasses into her hair so that she could better cover her face with her hand. Keith Kogane was about as subtle as a brick to the face.

“Keith!” Shiro protested, scandalized.

“What?” Keith said, mutinously. “They're totally faking it.”

Shiro looked between Pidge and Keith, eyebrows slowly going up. “Is that true?”

“Yeah,” Pidge said, lifting her locked tablet to provide evidence. “We don't know why yet, but Lance and Matt are most definitely not together.”

“I want in.”

Pidge’s mouth dropped open. That was not what she expected. To be honest, she’d been bracing herself for a Dad Lecture on Respecting Your Teammates’ Personal Affairs. She looked at Keith, who shrugged helplessly. 

Shiro leaned forward, a stubborn glint in his eyes. “Well?”

“O-of course,” Pidge said.

With Keith, she’d just been recruiting another person to help her play pranks on Matt and Lance. Somehow, with Shiro, it felt like they were going to war.

What had she gotten herself into?


	6. Chapter 6

Pidge was ten percent sure she was about to be scarred for life.

“ _Oh! Oh yes, Matt, right there!_ ” Lance wailed from the other side of Matt’s door.

She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. _Someone_ was going to die for this. She had all the innocent intentions of confronting Matt one more time about why he was mad at Shiro (with the added objective of getting some feedback on the modifications she was intending for Green’s back cannon). But when she lifted her fist to knock on the door, she’d been interrupted by Lance's ridiculous wail. And now she was frozen in horror, fist still hovering over Matt's door.

That at least explained why Keith had charged past her a moment ago, cheeks flaming red and expression this side of murderous.

 _“Hey, hand me that, will you?”_ murmured Lance, in a totally different tone of voice.

Pidge’s eyes snapped open. That was fucking _it_. Sucking in a deep breath (and preparing herself for years of trauma, why the _fuck_ was she risking this, ten percent was _way too high_ ), she slammed her eyes shut and opened the door with a war cry.

“You have two seconds to cover yourselves before I open my eyes!” she bellowed.

“ _Pidge!_ ” Matt yelled.

She gave them ten seconds, just in case, then hesitantly pried open one eye, ready to flee out of the room screaming if needed. Matt was standing by the foot of the bed, fully clothed (thank _god_ ), and holding a blue bottle in one hand. Lance was sitting on Matt’s bed, also fully clothed, painting his toenails with clear nail polish.

“Oh thank god,” Pidge exhaled, shoulders slumping. Then she flung up an accusing finger and crowed, “I knew it! You fucking fakers!” 

Matt launched himself from the bed and grabbed Pidge in a headlock, dragging her into the room and slamming his hand on the panel, closing the door behind her.

“What the hell, guys?” Pidge squawked, wrestling away from Matt. “Why are you _pretending_ to be a couple?”

Lance and Matt looked at each other, conversing with just their eyes. Pidge stuck her hands on her hips, determined not to move until she got some answers, dammit. Matt nodded at Lance, apparently giving the go ahead, because Lance sighed and set the nail polish on Matt’s nightstand.

“It was totally Matt’s idea.”

“Dude!” Matt said, betrayed.

Lance shrugged shamelessly. “She's your sister, man.”

Matt’s glare wavered and his shoulders slumped. He sank back onto the bed next to Lance. Lance wiggles his toes against his thigh in a show of support.

“It was a dumb idea,” Matt admitted with a sigh. “A really dumb idea, I guess.”

“It wasn't dumb,” Lance said, loyal as ever.

“Look, Ka—Pidge. You know that I—about Shiro—” Matt floundered. 

Pidge stared at him.

“I told Shiro I liked him,” Matt said, looking down at his hands. He looked ready to bolt, glancing between Pidge and the door. Pidge’s chest tightened. She’d got glimpses of Matt and Lance together these past couple of days, and he’d looked _relaxed_ , not like he was ready to wedge himself into the nearest hiding space. Like he did now. “I'd spent years in prison kicking myself for never telling him how I felt. So I promised myself that if I ever escaped, the first thing I'd do would be to tell Shiro how I really felt. And I did. I laid my soul out to him. Do you know what he said to me?”

Pidge cringed preemptively. She could just guess. 

“He said, ‘Thanks, buddy’.”

“Oh my god,” Pidge said, covering her face with one hand. So that was it. And of course her brother, the kind of guy who seriously did not like being talked down to, went off the deep end. Pidge turned to Lance. “Sorry for ever blaming you for this, dude. I should have known it was Matt who concocted this dumbass plan.”

“No problem, _’manita_.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Matt said, shooting a half-hearted glare at Lance. “I didn't tell you because I know how important Shiro is to you, and you always blow things way out of proportion.”

“ _I_ blow things out of proportion? Says the guy who started fake dating a guy to make another guy jealous!”

“Woah, woah,” Lance said, holding his hands up in an attempt to forestall the fight that was beginning to crackle between her and Matt.

Pidge crossed the room to drop Matt’s computer chair. “But that doesn't explain why you went to Lance for help,” she said, unable to keep the thread of hurt entirely out of her voice. She was glad her brother was making friends that weren't her—even though Lance was her friend _first_.

Matt’s expression softened, but it was Lance who answered. “I caught the tail end of the botched confession and was around for the fallout,” Lance admitted, pushing Matt’s leg with his foot. When Matt turned to him, he smiled sympathetically, clearly trying to cheer him up with the force of his own grin. It worked, a little. Matt’s lips curled up into a crooked smile. “Anyway, he didn't suggest it until a couple days later, when—” Lance trailed off, frowning slightly. “Why did you ask for my help, anyway?”

Pidge rolled her eyes. Matt really had chosen the best candidate for his dumb scheme. Of course Lance went along with it without question, as usual. When he was there for someone, he was there one hundred percent, even if it was at his own expense.

“I caught you mooning after Keith,” Matt said with a self-deprecating smile. “Like recognizes like, and all that.”

“So Matt asked me out in this totally romantic way,” Lance said, face brightening into a mischievous grin. “He was all, ‘Hey man, want to _really_ piss off Keith?’”

He shot a pair of finger guns at Matt, who pinched the bridge of his nose and laughed.

Lance lowered his hands again and shrugged. “Then it kind of just—spiraled out of control from there. And now here we are.”

Pidge stared at them in silence for nearly a full minute. Then she said, “I'm telling Keith and Shiro,” and lunged out of her chair to the door.

“Pidge don't you _dare_ ,” Matt yelped, surging off the bed. She dodged to the left, but Matt was _much_ quicker, what the hell, and pivoted, catching her in a headlock again.

“It's probably just all some misunderstanding! If you would stop being a stubborn asshole and just talk to him—” Pidge snarled, trying to elbow her way out of his sleeper hold.

“He made it perfectly clear how he feels,” Matt growled back, shifting his arm away when she tried to bite him.

“You _know_ how bad he is at this kind of stuff!”

“Pidge,” Matt snapped, and Pidge stopped struggling. “You can't tell anyone.”

“What's going to stop me?” Pidge demanded, craning her head back to glare up at her brother.

Matt glared right back. “ _Years_ worth of blackmail.”

Shit.

Pidge froze. At least ten different things she didn't want the other Paladins to know blasted through her mind. Matt smirked, as if he could read her thoughts.

Lance perked up and leaned forward. “Like what?”

“Nothing!” Pidge squawked. She wrenched out of Matt’s hold. 

He let her go, sticking his hands on his hips and lifting one eyebrow. “Well?”

Pidge waved an accusing finger in her brother’s unamused face. “You’re a terrible person.”

Matt shrugged, completely unapologetic.

“What about you?” Pidge demanded, whirling on Lance. It really said something about her brother that _Lance_ was the logical one out of the two of them.

Lance shrugged, smiling a little sadly. “What have I got to lose? It's not like Keith notices me, anyway.”

“You—” Pidge stopped. Once again, she found herself in possession of more information than anyone else. Except instead of calculations or equations, she had _way_ too many secrets. If she couldn't tell Keith about how Lance felt about him, how could she, in good conscience, tell Lance how Keith felt?

Holy crap, she was in _way_ over her head.

“You're both _stupid_ , and I'm going to leave before it rubs off on me,” Pidge said, even though it was a giant lie. She was obviously just as stupid as they were.

“Pidge,” Matt said as Pidge stalked to the door. She glared at him over her shoulder. He stared back, expression blank. “Promise me.”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise,” Pidge grumbled, then stormed out of Matt’s room. The door swished shut behind her.

At least she now had enough data now to formulate a theory: **They were all dumbasses.**

Herself included.


	7. Chapter 7

“Pidge? What are you doing out here so late?”

Pidge peeled her face up from the table, where she had been contemplating all of her terrible life decisions for the past varga or so. Hunk took the seat across from her, eyebrows furrowed with concern. “You alright?”

“No,” said Pidge, thunking her head back down.

Hunk hummed, tapping his fingers on the table. “You know what always makes me feel better when I'm having a bad day? Lilikoi bars.”

“What are those?” Pidge asked, tilting her face up so that she was resting her chin on the table.

“Like a lemon bar, but with passion fruit.” Hunk kissed the tips of his fingers. “My mom would make it for me when I was feeling down. Well, actually she would buy them from the restaurant down the street—my mom’s terrible at baking—but I didn't realize that until I was, like, fifteen. The point is: they always made me feel better.”

Pidge cracked a small smile. “Got any lilikoi bars here?”

“No.” Hunk puffed out a dramatic sigh, then grinned at her. “But I bet I could make something similar. Come on.”

Pidge dutifully followed Hunk into the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter as he shuffled through the cabinets. “That fruit from Olkari has a similar sweet and tart flavor, but it kind of makes your tongue numb,” he mumbled, mostly to himself.

“Hey, Hunk?” Pidge asked, swinging her feet against the cabinet. “Have you ever got way in over your head?”

Hunk straightened up, holding a pair of large vibrant blue fruit in one hand and a juicer in the other. “I'm best friends with Lance. I am always in over my head.”

Pidge smiled. “Good point. So what do you do?”

Hunk set the fruit and juicer on the counter next to Pidge, then turned to the sink to wash his hands. “Well, it's a case by case basis, right? But in the end, we always figure something out.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking down at her hands. 

Hunk pulled a large knife from the drawer by Pidge’s leg. “Does this have to do with Lance’s fake relationship with Matt?”

Pidge’s head snapped up. “He told you?”

“Well, no,” Hunk snorted, grabbing the fruit again. He cut them in half with two practiced swipes. The insides were a lurid purple. “Not since it's Matt’s secret, too. But I've known Lance for long enough to know the dude’s totally in love with Keith, and anyone with a pair of eyes can see how your brother looks at Shiro. Like he's hung all the stars in the sky.”

Despite herself, Pidge found herself grinning broadly. “I never knew you were such a romantic.”

“I've got hidden depths,” Hunk said, juicing the Olkari fruit. “How did you get involved?”

“I meddled,” Pidge admitted sheepishly. Somewhere back on Earth, her mother was probably tutting in disapproval and wondering why.

“That's not like you,” Hunk said, then cocked his head to the side, as if turning the situation over in his mind. “I guess your brother is involved, so that makes more sense.”

“Right?” Pidge said, leaning forward. “I knew something was up from the very beginning, but I didn't know _what_. So I tried to put a stop to it.” She winced a little. “By—trying to break them up.”

Hunk snorted. “Wow, dude.”

“I know,” Pidge groaned, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Well, anyway,” Hunk said, frowning down at his hands. They were exceptionally purple. “You’ll figure it out. You're the smartest person I know.”

Pidge slowly lowered her hands. He was right. It was time to take things in her own hands. As if on command, a half-formed idea popped into her mind. She would probably need Allura’s help to get everyone on board, but— “You’re _brilliant_ ,” she said, beaming at him.

Hunk visibly hesitated. “I don't know if I like the sound of that.”

Pidge hopped off the counter, clapping her hands together. “No, this is _perfect._ I gotta go—”

“Wait, don't you want a lilikoi bar?” Hunk asked, looking despondently at pulpy remains of the Olkari fruit.

Pidge paused, considering Hunk’s crestfallen expression. “Sure, Hunk,” she said, and climbed back onto the counter. She had time.

As it turned out, Hunk’s lilikoi bars _did_ make her feel better, even if they did stain her hands and tongue bright purple, and left her mouth feeling a little numb.

* * *

She didn’t get to work on phase two of Operation: Coffee Break for several quintants: first, Allura sent Hunk and Pidge on a diplomatic mission. It was _incredibly boring_ , and Pidge spent the majority of the mission trying to get Hunk on board with phase two. At first, he was adamantly against it, but Pidge had plenty of time to convince him otherwise, and eventually he grudgingly caved. “Mostly,” he’d said, “to make sure no one dies.”

Second, they needed another full quintant to actually implement phase two. It was slow going—there were a lot of variables they needed to consider. But they worked well together. Without Hunk’s help, it would have taken her an extra quintant to finish setting up.

“And what do you need us to do?” Shiro asked, after Pidge finished giving an extremely high level explanation of her plan the morning of phase two. (She had a feeling that too many details would result in a flat out refusal from all parties.) They were walking the halls of the castle, down the familiar path to the training room, Pidge again kitted out in full Paladin armor.

“You do what you do best, buddy,” Pidge said, clapping Shiro on the shoulder. “But whatever you do, leave Keith to Lance. Also, Keith, I know it'll be hard, but try not to be a super duper samurai today, okay?”

“Wait, what?” Keith said.

“What does that even mean?” Shiro said. “Pidge, is this dangerous?”

“No! Well, a little. It's mostly safe.” She chewed on her lower lip, quickly running through some mental calculations. All her failsafes _should_ be foolproof. Worst case scenario, they may get a bit banged up. “Anyway, what are a couple bruises in the name of love?”

Keith and Shiro exchanged a skeptical glance, but didn't argue as Pidge led them to the training room.

“Why do all your bright ideas end with us in the training room?” Keith grumbled, hesitating by the door. His cheeks were pink. Probably he was remembering the last time he was there with Lance.

“Because, for a giant flying castle, we have limited resources,” Pidge said, then shoved Keith into the room. 

Shiro trailed after, scanning the room as if he would be able to unravel Pidge’s whole plot with a glance. His eyes snagged on Hunk, who was at the control panel, adding some finishing touches to Pidge’s code. “Hunk? What are you doing here?”

Hunk flashed him a grin. “I'm here for moral support.”

“Thanks, dude,” Keith said, smiling back.

“And to record this,” Hunk continued, holding up a small cam.

“Hunk!” Shiro protested.

“What? It’ll be great for your guys’ wedding videos. I like to plan ahead.”

Pidge crossed the room, grabbing Hunk by the arm. “Everything look good?”

“Yep,” Hunk said, popping the ‘p.’ “I made some minor adjustments to one of your failsafes. Nothing big.”

Pidge bristled slightly. She hated people poking around in her code, but if there was anyone who knew what they were doing, it was Hunk. It was too bad she didn't have time to review it. “Fine. Come on.” She dragged him to the wall with the vent, then turned back to the others. “Now remember, _play along_.”

“How?” Keith demanded, but Pidge was already jetting off to her hiding place in the vents, Hunk in tow. It was _way_ more cramped than when it was just her, but after a few ticks of jabbing each other with their elbows, they managed to settle down in relative comfort.

Allura walked in a few ticks later, followed by Coran. It hadn't been hard to convince them to help; all Pidge had to do was mention a plot to help her four dumbass friends and they were in. Pidge had a suspicion they, like Hunk, knew what was up.

Coran made a beeline to Keith, snatching up both his hands and beaming into his face. Keith flinched back. “Can I just say, it is an _honor_ to be of assistance. Human mating rituals are so magnificently complex!”

“Uh, no problem,” Keith said, pulling one hand away to pat Coran’s shoulder. “Thanks for your help?” He shot a purely what-the-fuck look over his shoulder at the vents. Pidge gave him a thumbs up.

“Of course,” Coran said, dabbing at the corners of his eyes with the crook of one gloved finger. “Anything for true love. Why, it reminds of when I was a young man, experiencing my own first pangs of heartache over an unfinished brak ritual on Altea—”

“But where are the zaures?” Allura said, searching the room for whatever zaures were. “How will they know your intention?”

“Help me,” Keith mouthed at Shiro.

Keith was rescued not by Shiro (who was busy with a suspicious coughing fit, anyway), but by the entrance of Matt and Lance. They both stopped just inside the door, looking skeptically around the room.

“Ah, good,” Allura said, smiling in a totally obvious way, Keith discreetly prying himself away from an emotional Coran in the background. “I'm glad you two could make it.”

Lance frowned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His eyes stopped on Keith, who was totally focused on the tops of his shoes. “Sure, Princess. But what kind of training program is this? Where are Pidge and Hunk?”

“They’re—not required for this exercise,” Allura fumbled.

“I needed them to oversee repairs on the glondular drive,” Coran chimed in. Pidge was fairly certain he made that up on the spot.

“But why me?” Matt asked, frowning at Shiro, like he was sure Shiro was somehow to blame for this. Shiro’s shoulders slumped a bit.

“Although you aren't technically a Paladin of the Voltron lions, you are still a valuable member of our team,” Allura said, smiling gently. “It's important that we all have a strong bond, and I've noticed that there's been some—tension lately. We believe this new training exercise will help.”

Lance glanced at Matt, who was still frowning mulishly, then shrugged. “I'm in. Anything for Voltron.”

Allura looked around the room, eyebrows raised in challenge. When no one protested, Allura smacked her hands together and said, brightly, “Alright, let's begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why, is that an end i see in the distance?


	8. Chapter 8

“Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea,” Hunk murmured. “Why did I agree to this? I must have eaten some bad food goo. There's no other explanation why I'd go along with something _this_ crazy.”

“Shhh.” Pidge drove her elbow into Hunk’s side. There wasn't much space to _live_ in this vent, with Hunk taking up every available corner. “Do you want them to find us? Besides, I know for a fact that’s a lie. You're Lance’s BFF.”

Hunk said nothing, which was enough of a response for Pidge.

One by one, the Gladiators materialized, until the fighters were surrounded by ten looming training robots. The four combatants lifted their weapons, falling into easy stances.

And then five of the Gladiators lunged at Keith.

“Hey!” Lance shouted.

Keith, being the awesome ninja he was, slid back one foot and lifted his sword, eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration. Pidge sighed. Hadn't the years taught her that she couldn't count on Keith to follow simple instruction?

But then Keith flicked a glance. It was so quick that Pidge would have missed it if she wasn't watching them as intently as she was. His expression didn't change when he turned back to the Gladiators, but he did hesitate when one of the Gladiators brought his knee up into his stomach.

Keith doubled over, clutching his stomach with both his hands. Oh, he was good. Much better than Pidge had given him credit for. She’d programmed the Gladiators to automatically shut down if they injured any of combatants; he had to seriously be exaggerating the force of the blow. He ducked the next blow, probably to make the fight seem a little more believable. Or—maybe he didn't want to die, considering it was a headshot. The blow obviously missed him, but Keith stumbled back, clutching his shoulder like he had been hit.

“Ack,” he said, and dove to the side when one of the Gladiators swung his sword at his head.

There was a quiet _ba-choo_ sound and one of the Gladiators fell on its side, smoke billowing from a new hole on the side of his head. It flickered, then disappeared. Lance lowered his gun.

“Keith!” he shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”

Keith rubbed his sternum, flushing a little. He was willing to go along with Pidge’s plans, but he clearly didn't enjoy looking inept. “Lucky shot.”

Lance rested his gun on his shoulder. “‘Lucky shot?’ I don't think so. That was two hundred percent skill, ba-aby.” He drew out the last word, smirking, but Keith froze, staring, his sword sagging at his side. Lance realized what he said a moment later and went bright red. “N-not like that! I mean—I—”

He turned to Matt, as if looking for back up, and he jerked forward when he noticed that the other part of Pidge’s plan: the final five Gladiators had teamed up to attack Matt.

“Matt—!” Lance shouted, lifting his gun. But then one of the Gladiators blurred past him, and he swung his gun back around instinctively, shooting it in the back before it tackled Keith. The Gladiator spun and Keith danced away, neatly beheading the Gladiator with a clean swipe of his sword.

“That's one for me,” Keith called.

“Oh sure,” Lance snapped, forgetting all about Pidge’s brother. “After I shot it in the back. What's with all that training if you're just going to get your ass kicked?”

Keith huffed an offended breath, but before he could continue their argument, the three Gladiators converged on him in one choreographed attack.

“I can't watch,” Hunk said, covering his eyes with one hand.

Pidge hung over the edge of the vent, watching the fight with her binoculars. She pointed them at Matt and Shiro. Because Matt was physically incapable of doing what Pidge wanted, he did not lay around and wait for Shiro to protect him. He fought with showy brutality, like he was putting on a show for an audience. That thought made Pidge uncomfortable. She pushed it to the side for now.

Since he wasn't in on the plan, Pidge had had to make the Gladiators a challenge. Apparently, she’d been too good at her job, because the Gladiators were proving to be difficult for both Matt _and_ Shiro.

“Shit,” Pidge said, chewing on her knuckle. She wasn't that worried; if the Gladiators were too strong, she could easily put an end to the sim. It was still unnerving to see the Gladiators swarm her brother and her mentor like that, though.

“Did someone die?” Hunk yelped.

“Of course not!” No one _would_ , either.

Matt fell into step with Shiro, like this was a dance they did every night. When Shiro pivoted, he swung around and ducked. When Matt jabbed a Gladiator under the chin with his staff, Shiro followed it up with a neat kick to the chest, sending it flying back. They fought like a pair of old lovers, moving in perfect synchrony and—ugh. UGH. Did Pidge just think of them as _lovers_?

“What's wrong with you?” Hunk hissed as Pidge jammed the heels of her hands into her eyes and tried not to scream in terror.

“Shut up, shut up,” Pidge hissed back.

“Matt,” Shiro said, as they stood back to back and faced off against three of Pidge’s gladiators. “Will you tell me what I did wrong?”

Matt didn't respond, but his jaw tightened.

“Whatever I did, I'm sorry,” Shiro said. Even in the midst of a battle, he managed to sound earnest. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Matt whirled around, eyes flashing. “Listen, _Shiro_ —”

Taking his eyes off the Gladiator, even for a second, was a mistake. Before he could even get Shiro’s name fully out, one of the Gladiator’s drop kicked Matt to the chest, sending him flying back.

Pidge jerked forward, but before she could leap to her brother's rescue, Shiro snarled so viciously that it made Pidge freeze up in shock, and punched his fist through the Gladiator’s back. He ripped out a handful of wires, his hand smoking. “Princess, turn the sim off!” he shouted at the ceiling.

“W-why?” Matt demanded, staggering back to his feet and panting slightly. He wiped the corner of his mouth with one hand and grinned wildly. Her dear, sweet brother, the nerdy bookworm who used to stay up all night reading about theoretical physics, beamed like an adrenaline junky. It was an expression more familiar on Keith’s face. “Worried about losing?”

Shiro whirled on him, expression slack in disbelief. “This isn't a competition, Matt. They're ganging up on you!”

Matt ducked a volley of attacks from two of the Gladiators, expertly dancing out of the way. He twirled his staff overhead, slamming it into a Gladiator’s head, then jabbing the other Gladiator in the chest. “Don't be such a jellyfish, Shiro. I've got this—”

He was cut when Shiro surged forward, shoulder-checking him out of the way. He flew back, rolling on his side, then skidded to a stop. He pushed himself up, like in a half plank, just as the Gladiator that was about to slam into him took Shiro out, instead.

“Shiro!” Matt shouted, running on his hands and feet to them. But the three remaining Gladiators surrounded him and he stopped, holding his staff to one side, his other hand out like he wanted to reach through the space to grab Shiro.

“Shit!” Pidge yelped, and like a panicked idiot, launched herself out of the vent at the Gladiators. She'd programmed the Gladiators to be strong, but it shouldn't have gone _this_ far. Before she could land, she paused, hovering just overhead.

One by one, the Gladiators slumped forward, powering down. Keith and Lance leaped back from the Gladiator’s they'd been fighting, looking back and forth in surprise. Matt didn't even pause, just sprinted to Shiro’s side.

“I adjusted your failsafe,” Hunk said, drifting to her side. “I figured you'd be more focused on targeting Matt and Keith that you didn't really account for Shiro and Lance.”

Normally, Pidge would have been more defensive about her code. Right now she was too relieved to argue. “ _Thank_ you. I don't know what happened.”

“Well, I’d normally lecture you on safety while also reassuring you that it's ten thousand year old technology,” Hunk said, narrowing his eyes at their friends. “But I think Shiro might be hamming it up.”

“What?” Pidge said, looking down.

Matt had pulled Shiro’s head onto his lap and was alternating between scowling down at him and checking him for injuries. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“Why are you mad at me?” Shiro asked again, his expression all wounded puppy.

Matt really never did stand a chance. His jaw clenched and he finally gritted out, “You rejected me!”

Shiro froze and then, slowly, his eyebrows lowered. “Wait. What?”

“When I told you I liked you!”

Pidge hovered awkwardly overhead, really regretting rushing out like a panicked idiot. Well, shit. If she moved now, she might break the moment, and then Shiro's really _would_ murder her dead.

Shiro’s expression flattened into a scowl. “What do you mean I _rejected_ you?”

“You did,” Matt said, leaning back like he wanted to get away, even though Shiro’s head was still pillowed on his knees. “You said, ‘Thanks, buddy,’ when I told you I liked you.”

“Matt,” Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, and then, pitching his voice higher in a bad mimicry of Matt’s voice, said, “You said, ‘Shiro, man, I just _really_ like you. You're the _best_ ’.” He dropped his hand to glare up at Matt. “You're telling me _that_ was your confession?”

Matt actually did scoot back, expression closing off. “Don't make fun of me.”

“I'm not making fun of you!” Shiro said, sitting up. He grimaced, grabbing his ribs with one hand. “Matt, what the hell!”

“I'm going,” Matt announced to the room, scrambling to his feet.

“Matt, don't you dare—” Shiro growled, struggling up.

Matt bolted from the room.

Keith and Lance hesitantly stepped forward as Pidge and Hunk jetted down. Pidge sprinted to Shiro’s side, grabbing his wrist. “Shiro! Are you okay? I'm so sorry, that shouldn't have happened!”

“I'm fine,” Shiro said, carefully pulling away from Pidge. He patted her shoulder comfortingly, then rounded on Lance, who took a small step back. Shiro’s irritated expression collapsed and he slid his hand down his face. “ _Lance_.”

Lance’s eyes whipped between Shiro and Keith, and then he sighed with his whole body and looked up at the ceiling. “It was all fake. Operation: Faking It. Matt and I aren't together,” he admitted, tonelessly. “Matt was mad because you rejected him—or, okay, he _thought_ you rejected him—and I—” he tensed, darting a look at Keith, then back up to the ceiling, “—um. Anyway, I’m sorry about all this.”

They stood around in awkward silence after _that_ confession. Keith was studying Lance like he was trying to figure something out. Shiro’s face was rigid, but there was a glint in his eyes, like he had tentatively found hope again and was ready to latch onto it with both hands. With a quiet curse that was a little unexpected from their virtuous do-gooder pal, he stalked out of the room after Matt.

“Well!” Allura said, popping back into the room and making everyone jump. She clapped her hands together and beamed. “I never knew human mating rituals could be so _fascinating_!”


	9. Chapter 9

The door swished shut after a cheerfully chattering Allura and Coram, leaving the four paladins standing in a physically painful silence. Hunk opened his mouth, probably to do something phenomenally stupid, like call attention to him and Pidge. Pidge drove an elbow into his side. He expelled a quiet ‘oof,’ but thankfully took the hint.

“Sooo,” said Keith, slowly drawing out the word. “I understand why Matt would want a pretend relationship, but I don't really get your place in all this.”

“Just—helping out a friend,” Lance said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking like he would like to be absolutely anywhere else but there.

“Really.” Keith lifted one eyebrow. “Don't get me wrong, Matt’s a great guy, but you’ve known him for like, a tick.”

“I—” It was painful, watching the slow collapse of Lance’s expression as he realized his story was falling apart. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his eyes. “I'm sorry. It was dumb, but I thought maybe—maybe you might get jealous.”

“Me?” Keith repeated, and the thing was, even though Lance was so clearly leading up to it, Keith still looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Actually, he looked sort of like someone had sucker punched him. “Because—you like me?”

Not looking up, Lance nodded once.

Lance didn't see the way Keith’s entire face slowly lit up, but Pidge and Hunk sure did. Keith took a small, hesitant step forward.

“So,” he said. “You actually like me.”

Lance finally looked up, disbelieving. Keith pressed his lips together, then ducked his head to hide the smile that was threatening to break out across his face.

“I just played an elaborate long con on you because you wouldn't pay attention to me, and you're wondering if I _like_ you?” Lance demanded, his voice slowly going up in pitch. “ _Of course_ I like you. I've liked you since I first saw you stupid mullet at the Garrison. I would probably follow you to the ends of the universe because the only dumbass bigger than you is _me_!”

Keith stared at him, looking like Lance had just given him the most precious gift. This, for some reason, just made Lance angrier.

“No, scratch that, I don't _like_ you at all. Hell, I can't even stand you most the time. But for some reason, I _love_ you—mmph!” He was cut off as Keith flung himself into his arms and kissed the words right out of his mouth. Actually, it looked a little painful—Keith sort of just crashed into Lance with all the enthusiasm and force of an excited half-alien and nearly bowled them both over. 

There was a moment of stunned silence. Lance's hands hovered over Keith’s back, and then slowly came down to clutch his shirt.

“Come on,” Pidge hissed, tugging on Hunk’s arm. It was like trying to move a tree.

“Wait, just one more,” said Hunk, snapping about twenty more pictures with the Altean camera Coran had given them for mission purposes, but that they all abused regularly.

Pidge nearly crawled right out of her skin when Keith let out a happy groan. “Nope, that's more than I can take. We are _leaving_ ,” she said, and hauled Hunk out of the room.

* * *

“Altea has brain bleach, right?” Pidge asked, shoving up her glasses to scrub both her eyes with the heels of her hands.

“I don't get it. Wasn't this your plan all along? Why are you so grossed out?” Hunk asked, swiping through the photos as they strolled down the hall. “Oh, this one’s cute.” He held out the camera, showing Pidge a picture of Keith lunging at a wide eyed, angry looking Lance. They looked more like they were going to murder each other than make out.

Pidge sniffed. “My _plan_ was to break up Matt and Lance. All other results are nonsignificant.” 

“That implies that Matt remaining single would be your operational objective,” said Hunk. “Does that mean you're going to break up Matt and Shiro?”

“What? Of course not!”

Hunk grinned at her.

Pidge scowled.

“Ha! I knew it. You matchmaking cupid, you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Pidge grumbled, pressing the panel for the lounge. The doors swished open and both Pidge and Hunk froze.

Apparently, they’d found Matt the same time Shiro had. 

Shiro didn't even acknowledge Pidge and Hunk, just prowled towards Matt, one hand still clutching his side. Matt flicked a wide eyed glance towards Pidge and Hunk, then back to Shiro. “Sh-Shiro.”

“That was a dumb plan, Matt.”

“Yeah, well, your face is dumb,” Matt grumbled.

“I don't think you actually think that.”

“I really do.”

A small smile played at the corners of Shiro’s lips. He took a step towards Matt. When Matt didn't immediately shrink away, he took another step forward. “I'm sorry for misunderstanding your confession.”

Matt sighed and rubbed the back of his head, the belligerence falling away from his expression. He smiled back, tentatively. “I'm sorry for pretending to date Lance out of revenge.”

Shiro’s smile stretched into an amused grin. “I'm sorry for plotting with your sister to break you guys up.”

“Oh my god,” Matt laughed, covering his face with one hand. “We really are the worst type of people.”

Shiro reached out to hold Matt’s shoulders, leaning down a bit to look Matt in the eye. “Now that that’s all settled, can I kiss you?”

Matt responded by grabbing Shiro’s face with both his hands and planting him one on the mouth.

“Gah,” Pidge said. 

She really didn’t need Hunk to cover her eyes because 1. she wasn’t six years old and 2. she had already slammed her eyes shut, but she appreciated his consideration. Sort of.

“Get off me,” she grunted, shoving at Hunk’s arm.

He withdrew his hand just in time for Pidge to see Shiro back up, wince a little and grab the side where he’d been injured.

“Shiro—?” Matt held out a hand, still hesitant to touch him even though they had just been _sucking faces_ , ew.

“Just a little internal bleeding,” Shiro said, and then had the audacity to snicker a little at Matt’s look of horror.

Matt slid one hand down his face. “Oh my god, Shiro,” he groaned, then caught him as he sank to the floor. 

(Well, tried to catch him—Shiro just sort of took him down with him until Hunk and Pidge hurried over to help.)

* * *

“Hey.”

Matt looked up from where he was typing furiously on a tablet. He was sitting in front of Shiro’s healing pod, legs crossed at the ankles, a plate of half-finished food goo at his side.

“Yo.”

“How’s he doing?” Pidge asked, dropping into a sitting position across from him.

Matt rolled his eyes and set his tablet to the side. “He’ll be fine. I still can’t believe he chased after me when he was bleeding out internally.”

“He’s kind of an idiot like that,” Pidge said, stretching out one leg to nudge his knee with her foot. “Or maybe he just thought you were worth chasing after.”

Matt’s expression changed to something soft and sweet—and incredibly dopey. “Yeah.”

It hit Pidge like a bus. “Oh god, you and Shiro are going to be so gross, huh?”

He nodded seriously. “ _So_ gross.”

“Keith and Lance are probably going to be even worse,” Pidge said, dropping her head in her hands. “Operation: Terminate Latte was a _terrible_ idea.”

Matt snorted. “What a dumb name. ‘Operation: Terminate Latte’? What are we, some overpriced novelty drink?”

Pidge scowled. She didn‘t know what everyone had against the name. “Oh, like you have any room to talk. ‘Operation: Faking It’? Besides, we changed it to Operation: Coffee Break, so shut up.”

“You’re just jealous. At least our name made logical sense. _You’re_ name sounds like you put a hit out on us.” Matt folded his arms behind his head, leaning against the pod. It was almost like he was leaning against Shiro’s legs. “Learn from your masters, young Padawan.”

Before Pidge could chew him out for outdated movie references (although the first argument that popped in her head was, “Like _you’d_ be a Jedi,” which would probably hurt her point more than help it), the doors to the medical wing swished open and Keith stormed in. “I can’t believe you!” he shouted over his shoulder, and stomped straight back out the far door.

A second later, Lance strolled in, a smug grin splitting his face in half. He caught sight of Matt and Pidge and wiggled his fingers in greeting, but didn’t stop his leisurely pursuit.

“What did you do?” Matt called.

“We’re having our first fight,” Lance said, happily. _Grossly_. “As a _couple_.”

“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” Pidge said, with a groan.


End file.
